I’ve met the same people. They just had different faces. Different names. But they were the same.
It started with a friend. The kind who always made me feel smaller. She dictated my whole life. Every decision filtered through what she thought was best. And I let her. Because she was older. Wiser, I assumed.
So, I made myself quiet. Navigating her advice like it was gospel. I thought she was helping me become the best version of myself.
Then it was him. The one who told me I was nothing without him. The one who said if I ever left, I’d never find someone better. He thought I’d be scared.
And I was… at first.
Until I wasn’t.
Until I looked back at everything and realized: I was the one who made it special. I was the one holding it together.
Then came the one who reminded me of him. Berlin. We met on the first day of school. Went home together. Got lost together. Wandered the streets and talked like we knew each other. He always sat beside me. Close, but silent. He never really saw me. He was just there.
And the one in Prague… He was amazed by me. Said I was different. Wanted to be seen. Praised. Constant validation for his insecurities. And when I stopped giving it to him, he noticed.
The one thing they all had in common? They were insecure. And they wanted to stand near someone who wasn’t.
They liked my light. But they didn’t know how to hold it. They only knew how to dim it.
And the lesson? I was never meant to shrink to meet people. It wasn’t about helping them find their confidence. It was about learning to stop giving mine away.
So, I let go.
I didn’t stay this time.
And that’s how I broke one of the cycles in my life.